Persona Dream
by The Generalist Gamer
Summary: The influence of Shadows has gone overseas. Follow the American high schooler Tyson Rayne as he and his friends travel into the world of their dreams to fight against the Shadows and uncover a plot that threatens humanity itself.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_Urgh…my head…what happened? Where am I? And who's playing a piano?!_

_ Well, give credit where credit's due. Whoever's playing it is really good._

I lift my head up from my crossed arms and apply pressure to my temples. My vision is misty and I feel somewhat queasy, like when you wake up from a really vivid dream. Rubbing my eyes with the base of my palm, I try to collect my surroundings. Everything in the room I'm in is painted entirely a violet color, including the stool I'm sitting on, which has quite the fancy cushion. Gold threading, intricate markings, the whole nine yards. If I didn't know any better, I'd say I'm in a bar…which makes even less sense considering I'm underage, have never been to a bar, and don't drink.

"Greetings…" a smooth voice calls out to me.

Nearly leaping from my seat from the sudden voice, I look up to see- THAT'S A NOSE.

An old hunchbacked crazy-eyed balding man in a fancy suit is standing behind the bar and, holy crap, this guy has the longest nose I have ever seen in my life. If I lean too far forward he could probably poke my eye out with it. The strangest thing about this man, though, is that while he seems like someone you'd see on the streets of New York in the dead of night trying to polish your shoes, he has some sort of air about him that makes him seem…I dunno, important?

"Welcome…to the Velvet Room!" The man holds his arms out, motioning to the room. He speaks in a way that would normally be unnerving, but this case, almost sounds thoughtful and knowledgeable. He brings his arms back to his chest. "And my name is Igor. I am delighted to make your acquaintance."

I stumble on my words, but eventually manage to force out a, "H-hello…"

Igor chuckles and a chill runs up my spine. If I had half a brain, I'd get up and run, but I can't seem to find the exit. In fact, aside from Igor and I, the bar, the rack of drinks behind it, and the seat I'm sitting on, the room is entirely empty.

_So where the hell is that piano?!_

"Do not be alarmed. Please, calm yourself," Igor says. "There is much we have to discuss and I'm afraid we haven't much time!"

I hesitate, but eventually decide to steel myself. I sit up straighter and look Igor in the eyes. If staying here gets me killed, my obituary is gonna be really embarrassing, not to mention hard to explain.

"This place exists between dream and reality, mind and matter..."

"So, then…I'm dreaming," I state. Makes sense, I guess.

Igor chuckles again. "All of our guests seem to ask that question…yes, you would happen to be dreaming…for now, at least. Someday, you will come to enter this room of your own accord."

_Yeah, when hell freezes over._

"Only those bound by a contract may enter this place," Igor continues. "Henceforth, you shall be welcomed here in the Velvet Room as our special guest."

"You keep mentioning multiple people," I pique up. "But as far as I can see, there's just us."

"Most days, I have an assistant beside me," Igor flashes one of the creepiest smiles I have ever seen. "However, she could, unfortunately, not make it this evening. I will have to apologize on her behalf, as she was very much looking forward to meeting you."

I nod in agreement, and Igor keeps talking. "To remain a loyal guest in the Velvet Room is to do one thing and one thing only: To take full responsibility for any and all actions you perform and choices that you make." He waves his arm and a white sheet of paper with unintelligible writing appears before me on the bar. At the bottom is…my signature? "This contract binds you to this agreement, and thereby this place, as well as giving you access to our services."

"I never signed this!" I shout.

Igor looks slightly displeased. "Whether you physically signed it or not, destiny has called you here. The cards have spoken."

Cards? What have I gotten myself into here?!

"I will continue to offer my services as long as you abide by the contract."

"What services?"

The man chuckles again. He seems pleased by the oddest things. "This will become clear in time. Remember my words, and think on them."

Reaching into his coat pocket, Igor pulls out a shiny purple key. The round end of it is decorated with what looks like a half-black, half-white mask. He places the key in my hands, using both of his own gloved hands to secure it in my grasp. I start panicking again when I find that the key is warmer than Igor's skin.

"Take this, and do not lose it," he says to me in a serious tone. He pulls back his hands as I place the key in my left pocket. "We will meet again in the near future. Take care…"

Igor chuckles again as my vision gets even hazier. I feel myself falling, the sounds of the piano are drowning out, and everything fades to black…

* * *

I snap awake and sit up straight in my seat on the plane. My pillow's propped up vertically on the window and the cabin is dark. The only sounds I can hear are the slight hum of the engine, the barely audible music emanating from the headphones of the older woman next to me, and the occasional loud snore of the whale of a man in the back.

_ … I drooled on my pillow. Classy, self._

I reach into my left pocket and pull out…a key. I was partially hoping that I was just having a crazy fever dream. I sigh and return the key to my pocket. As I readjust my pillow, I gaze out the window. Through the expanse of gray clouds, I can see the lights of a city below me, the place bustling with activity. I was never someone who liked crowded and noisy cities. Thankfully, that's not where I'm going. I check the clock on my cell phone and see that it's only 5 AM. If I remember right, I won't be landing for another couple hours.

_Why couldn't have I have had that dream when I was closer to my destination? Now I just have too much in my brain to sleep!_

I try to get comfortable again and pick a song to listen to.

_Classical…no…country…eh…rock? Whatever. It'll have to do._

I crank up my headphones and try to sleep. After tossing around for about ten minutes, I decide it's a hopeless cause. I unzip the backpack at my feet and pull out a pen and red notebook from it, the front reading "Journal" in big black block letters. I flip it open to the fourth page and scribble down my thoughts.

_"August 3rd, 2013 - Had a weird dream. Crazy old man with a big nose. Something about fate and cards. Showed me a contract I never signed and now I have a key. Really confused; don't know what it means."_

After thinking for a little longer, my pen returns to the paper.

_ "Not feeling so great. Don't know how people at school will treat me. I barely have enough time to move in first. Hope my aunt isn't a bitch."_

Feeling satisfied with my entry, I put the notebook and pen back into my backpack and put my head on my pillow, this time successfully drifting off.

* * *

"Excuse me…sir…"

_Who's waking me up and why do they have a death wish?_

My eyelids slowly begin to part, weary from sleep. The lights inside the plane are on and the sun is just beginning to rise. I sit up, stretch my aching body, and look over to the voice – the flight attendant.

"We've arrived to your destination. Thank you for flying with us, sir."

I take a quick glance around the plane, seeing vacant seats all throughout the cabin. Had I really slept through the entire rest of the flight?

"Where-…where are we?"

"Gode, North Dakota, sir."

_Oh, thank God._

I thank the flight attendant and she heads back to the cockpit of the plane. Hoisting my backpack onto my right shoulder, I pop in my headphones and head into the airport…and immediately begin bumping into people.

_Ugh. Crowds._

Using my expert skills of dodging people in school hallways, I proceed to duck and weave through the mass of people, some of them too tired to care what's going on, others in a rush to make their takeoff time, and some just standing around making calls. I swing by one of the food outlets and nab an egg & cheese biscuit before making a beeline for the luggage pickup. Luckily, they hadn't lost any of my bags, and I'm certainly not in the mood to be dealing with unhappy airport workers. With my rolling suitcase in tow, I head for the pickup lane and pick a bench. The warm emerging sun makes me regret picking black sweatpants to wear for the flight. I quickly scarf down the biscuit and throw the wrapper into my backpack. Feeling myself growing tired again, I pull out my smartphone, my fingers flying across the keyboard, composing a message for my aunt.

-In the pickup lane. U here yet?-

A few minutes pass before a reply appears.

-Almost. Hang tight. :) -

As I place the phone back in my pocket, a young-looking businessman in a night-black suit and maroon tie sits in the bench alongside me. He could be young enough to have just graduated from college, but the amount of papers he has makes him seem like a higher-up. He begins cycling through papers in his suitcase, as if checking to make sure he has everything. His frantic green eyes catch my presence and he smiles and nods a greeting. I nod back. He begins speaking to me, but all I hear is a sick guitar solo.

"I'm sorry?" I say as I pluck out the earbuds.

The man chuckles and asks again. "You're a ways from home, huh?"

I flash a look of confusion. The man slightly blushes and points at the tag on my suitcase labeled "New York City".

"Oh, right. Y-yeah, I'm, uh…moving in."

A look of shock appears on the man's face. "Moving? Here?" He laughs. "How do you go from the city to such a small rural place like this?"

"Small places have airports?" I ask.

He laughs again. "Fair point, fair point. What I mean is this place isn't nearly as hectic as the big city. It's odd to make such a huge change." He stops for a moment before reaching out his hand. "Charles Mink," he tells me.

"Tyson Rayne," I reply returning the handshake. Curiosity fuels my next question. "What about you? What're you here for?"

Charles immediately tenses up. "I-it's, u-um…well, top-secret." He looks at me and seems to be thinking. "Long story short, I travel for business a lot. This is my next station for the next couple of years."

I murmur an agreement and nod. Just then, a vibration goes off in my right pocket.

-Here. Blue van.-

I scan the area and find a navy blue minivan parked at the far side of the lane.

"Ride's here?" Charles asks.

"Yeah. I'm staying with my aunt."

"Ah, right, right." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small white card. "Hey, feel free to call sometime. Fellow city folk gotta stick together when out of their comfort zone, am I right?"

I smile and nod, putting his card into my back pocket, despite the sketchiness of the situation. The man sits back and stares at the passing cars as I head towards my aunt's van.

A tall and skinny but not exactly young woman exits the front door. Her brown hair is curled and she's wearing a bright blue dress and is boasting a tan. She extends her bony arms as she approaches me.

"Tyson!" she exclaims as she embraces me. I don't remember her all that well, but I return the gesture anyways.

"Hi, Aunt Joanne," I say as she releases me from her crushing grip.

"Aw, you sound exhausted," she states as she lets me go. She examines the silver watch on her wrist and smiles. "Well, it is six in the morning. Let's get you home and you can sleep." She yawns as we head for our car doors and I swear I hear her say, "Hell, I need some sleep of my own."

I throw myself into the passenger seat. The car's a nice model, and would seem new if it weren't for the musty unfamiliar smell, food crumbs forever pressed into the carpet, and the glove compartment overflowing with receipts.

"Sorry," Aunt Joanne apologizes. "I meant to clean out my car, but I just didn't have the time!"

I smile at her politeness.

_So far, she's not a bitch. This could go in my favor._

"It's fine, Aunt Joanne," I reply. "My room at home wasn't much better."

She chuckles at my response, then with sudden realization, says, "Oh, I almost forgot; all your stuff came in the mail yesterday. It's already in your room. I just didn't unpack it 'cause I didn't know how you wanted it…and because I didn't want to break anything."

I find myself laughing. She seems like a genuinely nice and energetic person. Big change from the person I used to live with. My aunt twists the dial on the radio, bringing up a morning talk show for us to listen to. I don't care much for these, but sometimes they can say some interesting things.

_"-ever tried it."_

_ "Seriously? Never?_

_ "No, not once!"_

_ "C'mon, Beth, everybody has had a lucid dream at some point in their lives."_

One of the voices, the one protesting, laughs. A female.

_"I never have!"_

_ "Well, maybe you just don't remember!"_

"Do you know when school starts up?" I ask my aunt.

"Two days," she says. "August 5th."

I breathe a heavy sigh. "Seriously? That soon?"

My aunt grins at me. "Hey, come on; don't see it as a bad thing! You'll be able to meet new friends sooner!"

_ …damn, she's right._

I've never been the best at making friends, but if I can get an early start to meet some new people, then hell, I'll take it.

_"Well how do you do that?"_

_ "I…think you have to eat cheese or something."_

_ "Cheese…?"_

_ "Yeah, cheese. Any kind of dairy, actually."_

_ "Uh-huh. And that's it?"_

_ "Well, no. You lie perfectly still on your back for 10 minutes. Th-that's what this webpage says, anyways. Sometimes it just happens, too."_

With my forearm propping my head up, I continue staring out the window at the rolling scenery. We pass by trees, housing developments, eventually reaching what looks to be an outlet mall and a school across the street (of which my aunt points out to be my school), then more houses, some fields, and Aunt Joanne finally pulls into a neighborhood past the run-down part of town with a gas station and a tiny strip mall with family-owned shops and a cheap-looking movie theater.

_ "Haha, okay, sure. Keep telling yourself that. Anyways, now to turn you over to Kat Milton for your daily traffic repor-__"_

I snap out of my trance as the car's engine cuts. My aunt exits the door and grabs my suitcase, wheeling it into the opening garage. I groggily stumble out of the passenger side and throw open the door. Inside is, surprisingly, quite nice, with brown couches, granite countertops, a large-screen TV, and plenty of expensive-looking trinkets in shelves and cabinets.

_Must've spent more time cleaning the house than the car._

"Where's the bathroom?"

My aunt closes and locks the garage door behind us and points towards the hallway past the living room. "First door on the left."

I thank her and head in. After urinating, I wash my hands and look at my face in the mirror.

_I look like shit._

My short sandy brown hair's a greasy mess, I have huge bags under my eyes, and my slightly tanned face looks like it's hosting a war between small zits and long scraggly unshaved hairs. I sigh and dry my hands, but not before a ringing goes off in my mind. My hand instantaneously grabs my forehead.

_(…ime…ken…ower…)_

_ Wh-what th-the hell…?!_

As fast as it came on, the pain subsides. I blink rapidly and shake my head violently.

_I must be tired…yeah…jet lag, right? North Dakota's…I dunno, hour behind or something…_

I drag myself out of the bathroom and back into the living room. To the left of the bathroom hallway is another hallway leading to the dining room in the front of the house, the front door, and a staircase leading upstairs. My aunt comes down the stairs and notices me.

"Your bed is already made," she says. "Go on up, get some rest. If you wake up before me, there's food and snacks in the pantry."

"Thanks…" I say as a limp up the stairs. The upstairs hallway has a bathroom of its own to the right, my room across the hall, and another two doors at the end of the hallway. I assume one's a linen closet and the other is Aunt Joanne's room.

I enter my room to find a bed with a dark wood frame and red sheets in the back right corner of the room facing the door. The wall looks unpainted, as if the previous occupant just didn't want it painted. I'm curious as to who used to live in here, but I push that question aside for later. I walk over to the two windows, passing taped-closed cardboard boxes stacked against the wall and closet door as well as my wood desk and an entertainment center with a cable box and small TV in corner opposite my bed, and lower the white blinds to blot out the approaching sun. I drop my backpack onto my bed and pull out my phone charger, plugging it in with a zrrt into the outlet closest to my bed. I pull the crushed pillow from my backpack and toss it onto my bed and my backpack across the room. Flopping onto the bed, I plummet into a deep, deep sleep.

* * *

I awake to complete and utter blackness.

_Crap, did I go blind?!_

With the cracking of bones, my weary neck lifts my face out of the embrace of my pillow.

_Oh._

Bright sunlight filters through the blinds of my windows, and birds can be heard outside. I reach down for my phone to check the time – almost noon. With intense effort, I force myself out of my bed and onto my feet. I stretch my body, every bone making a loud crackling sound. Retrieving my body wash and shampoo from my suitcase, I grab a towel from the linen closet in the hallway and enter the bathroom for a shower.

Nearly a half hour later, I'm freshly washed, shaved, my teeth are brushed, my hair is combed, I'm dressed in my regular summer attire (that being a sleeveless blue- and black-striped shirt, navy blue cargo shorts, and a black rubber bracelet on my left hand), and a little acne cream is applied for good measure. When I re-enter my room, I toss my pajamas to the far end of the room, my pants making a clunk sound as they hit the wall.

_…hmm?_

I pick the pants back up, feeling through its pockets, finding not only Charles' business card, but the key Igor gave me. I sigh. I was still clinging onto the dim hope that I was simply exhausted from the flight and that I never actually met the man or got the key, but having it in my possession…it's too big a deal to ignore. Now that my mind is clear and awake, I have a slight tinge of panic.

_If I have something that was given to me in my dream, then what does that mean? Am I supposed to listen to that guy? When will I see him again?_

I take a deep breath. There's no use thinking about it. He said I'd go back at some point. I may as well wait until then.

As for Charles' business card, his name is printed in fine black letters as well as a cell number. There's a logo on the top right of the card for what I'd assume to be the company he works for, but I can't recall seeing it anywhere before. It looks like a mess of lines to me, so I give up and put the card in my wallet.

Using the Velvet Key as a razor, I begin slicing apart the tape on my boxes and arranging my stuff. I put my desk against the left wall across the room from my bed, and set up and plug in my desktop computer. A couple trinkets of mine go on the entertainment center around my TV, but the others will have to wait until I have shelves. A wooden dresser is in the opposite corner of my bed against the right wall, and I begin organizing my clothes inside it (most of which all look exactly the same…never noticed that before). Once I'm satisfied with the layout of my room, I stuff unopened and half-emptied boxes into my closet and put the emptied ones into the hallway. It's now around one in the afternoon.

"I see you're all set up!"

I turn to see my aunt in the doorway. She's in jeans and a t-shirt now.

"Yeah," I reply. "Wanted to do something productive."

"I see," she says. "Do you want to go get some lunch? Get to know each other a little better?"

My stomach decides the answer for me. I grab my phone and wallet and we pile into the minivan. After a bit of driving, we arrive at the outlet mall across the street from the school. It's a relatively large complex, with tightly-packed stores arranged around the parking lot. There's a central plaza with benches, fake grass, and a running fountain. Plenty of teens my age are running around with their friends, trying to squeeze the last little drop of life from their summer vacation. My aunt finds a parking spot and we walk out into the pathway.

"So, what do you want to eat?" she asks.

I survey my surroundings. Most of the stores are ones for clothing, but a couple are for games, books, movies, and there's even a candy store, but among these are some small restaurants.

"Why not that sub shop?"

She nods and we begin heading towards it. As we walk, a number of students pass us by. I'll be a junior this year so I'm scoping out people who are in my age group, only I can't seem to tell what anyone's ages are. Everyone looks about the same. I spot a group of loud girls laughing with each other, multiple guys roughhousing and swearing up a storm, and a light brown-haired boy with glasses in a gray t-shirt and khakis holding hands with a pretty girl in a stunning yellow dress.

We eventually reach the sub shop and are greeted by the workers behind the counter. A boy who looks to be my age with combed-down dark brown hair is grinning ear-to-ear at the cash register.

"Hey there, buddy! What can I get for ya?!" he proudly exclaims.

I scan the menu and pick out my order. My aunt does the same and pays for our food, and as we're heading to our table, the cashier calls out to me. I motion for my aunt to go ahead and find a table and begin making small talk with him.

"I haven't seen you around here before," he says. "You new here?"

"Yeah, I just moved in. Yesterday, in fact."

"No kidding? Where from?"

"New York."

The guy laughs. "Seriously? Damn, that's a ways away."

"I don't mind. I never really liked the city. Too noisy, too many people. It really starts to stress you out after a while."

"Yeah, I can see that making sense," he says. "You going to school on Monday?"

"Should be, though I'm not all that excited about it."

The cashier frowns slightly. His dark brown eyes shift to the side. "Me neither. School means I need to quit this job. I really like it here, but they're not keen on weekend workers for some reason." He returns his gaze to me and scoffs. "Not having money is gonna be a huge pain." His face goes back to a smile and he reaches out his hand. "Emile."

_Funny name…_

"Tyson," I respond, returning the handshake.

"Hey, maybe we'll have a class together!" he exclaims.

I'm about to respond, but suddenly the ringing in my head from last night returns. I can hear my heart pumping and my vision goes slightly hazy.

"…whoa, dude, you okay?" Emile must've noticed me spacing out and shows genuine concern.

I look back up at Emile and try to recompose myself. "Yeah, I'm-…"

_(Magician.)_

_ …huh?_

I shake my head and I snap back into reality. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Jet lag's just getting to me."

Emile continues to look worried, but thankfully decides to take my word for it. "If you say so, man. Take it easy, alright? I'll probably see you Monday."

I nod in agreement. "Yeah. I'll keep an eye out for you. See ya."

"See ya."

I walk back to the table and sit across from my aunt. She's already got the subs and started eating hers. She hands me an empty cup and asks if I want to go pick out a drink. I nod and take the cup, picking out root beer from the soda fountain and returning to my seat.

"So," my aunt asks. "What kind of stuff do you like to do outside of school?"

In-between bites I manage to get out an answer. "Some sports. Some video games. Writing. Used to play guitar, but I haven't practiced in a long time and I sold it a while ago. …kinda wish I hadn't, though."

"Oh," Aunt Joanne responds. "What kind of sports?"

"Used to be on the baseball team at my old school," I point out. "Wasn't exactly good at it, but I liked doing it."

"This school has a baseball team, too, and a lot of other sports and clubs, I hear. You should keep an eye out for registration."

"Yeah, probably,"

I look up at my aunt and she looks at me, seemingly triggering the ringing in my ears again, only this time, it's quieter and less staggering.

_(Sun.)_

My eyes dart around the room. "Who keeps-…?!"

"Who keeps what?" my aunt asks.

I snap back to attention, not wanting to worry her.

_Am I going completely insane?!_

"N-nothing. No big deal," I say, trying to comfort her worries. I continue eating my sub, avoiding the subject as best I can. Just like Emile, she still shows concern, but decides to drop it.

_What're those voices? Where are they coming from? And what's "Magician" and "Sun" mean?_

Too many unanswered questions are flinging through my brain. If I'm not going mad now, I'll definitely start to dip into insanity if I don't find out what all these sudden changes mean. The voices, the headaches, the-…

The key. Igor. If anyone can answer my questions, it's gotta be Igor. All of this started happening after he barged into my brain.

_But how do I get back to the Velvet Room?_

"Maybe we should get back home," my aunt says, derailing my train of thought.

"No, no, I-…" I pause. Actually, she's right. I have a splitting headache and I'm still dizzy. "…yeah, okay. Let's go."

Both of us finish up our food and drinks and head out.

"Bye, Tyson! Nice meeting you!" I hear Emile say.

"You too," I reply as we head out the door.

* * *

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, Aunt Joanne, I'm fine!"

I appreciate how she's worried about me, but my aunt grilling me is starting to get on my nerves. I'm not physically sick, but there's definitely something fishy going on in my head.

"Maybe you should go take a nap…"

_Last time I did that, an old guy violated my mind._

"I'll be alright. I just need some Advil and some alone time."

Aunt Joanne reluctantly agrees to my request and fetches me two small red pills. I down them and retreat to my room, but not before thanking my aunt for lunch. I immediately switch my pants out for nylon workout shorts and flop onto my bed with my notebook and pen in hand. I return to this morning's entry and continue writing.

_"Now I'm hearing things. When I look at people, voices start going off in my head, and I've been having extreme headaches. On the upside, I met someone today and my aunt is very kind to me. School starts in two days. Maybe I can get some answers before then."_

I put the book and pen in my nightstand drawer and go back to staring at the ceiling. The medicine begins to kick in and my headache starts to subside. Now to solve the problem of finding the Velvet Room…

_He said I'd decide to go next time. Maybe if I sleep I'll go back? …it's probably not that easy._

My mind is rife with questions that a day ago I would've found ridiculous. My thought process is, however, once again interrupted, this time by the doorbell. I hear the pounding of my aunt's footsteps downstairs as she answers the door.

"Oh, hello Maria!" I hear her say.

_…a girl?_

I can't hear any response, but my aunt's voice is perfectly audible, despite being muffled by the floor.

"Tyson! Come down here!"

_Hoo boy._

I trudge down the steps to find my aunt talking to a cute girl in the doorway.

"Tyson, this is Maria Reynolds," my aunt says. "She lives just down the street."

Maria seems to instantly get nervous when she sees me coming down the stairs. Her face turns a new shade of pink.

"H-…h-hi…" she says. No wonder I couldn't hear her end of the conversation; her voice is really weak and quiet.

"Hey," I reply.

Maria's got deep blue-green eyes and her blonde hair is tied up in a braid that reaches the small of her back, yet a part of her bangs still sticks out and drapes over her forehead. She's wearing a light blue tank-top and short denim shorts. Her face seems very child-like, but in a relatively adorable way. In her arms is a plate wrapped in tin-foil.

"I-…um…h-here," she holds the plate out to me and I graciously take it. "They're brownies…I made them myself." She looks up at me and smiles shyly with her hands clasped down by her waist. Her stance seems very withdrawn and shy.

_ (High Priestess.)_

_ Oh, give me a break already!_

I take a peek at the brownies. Admittedly, they look and smell fantastic.

"Thanks, uh…Maria, right?" I ask. She promptly nods. This time, I'm the one to offer my hand. "Tyson."

She weakly returns the handshake, as if she wasn't expecting it. "I-it's nice to meet you…I hope you like it here." She flashes a smile, one that portrays genuine kindness and sincerity. She seems to be mustering up something to say, and eventually blurts it out. "My oldest brother is gonna drive me to school in the morning with my other brothers and I…w-would you like to carpool with us?"

I shoot a look at my aunt, asking for approval.

"I was actually going to ask you that," Aunt Joanne said. "I haven't been able to work out a later call time for work with my boss. That would be very kind of you."

"Yeah, it would," I tell Maria. "Thank you."

She blushes even more and smiles brightly. "We'll get you at 7:00, okay?"

"Sounds good!" I exclaim. "I'll see you then?"

Maria nods. "Y-yeah. Goodbye!" she says as she turns to walk away, waving at my aunt and I.

"Bye," we say. "Thanks for the brownies!" I add, but she's already practically sprinting down the street.

_Holy crap, her confidence was at an all-time low._

"She's a very sweet girl," Aunt Joanne says as I close the door. "She's really artsy, too."

"How old is she?" I ask out of curiosity.

"Fourteen, I think," she responds. "She'll be a freshman this year." My aunt laughs. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say she thinks you're cute!"

I blush slightly. "How do you know that?"

"She was talking to me just fine, and then locked up when she started talking to you!" She laughs again. "Though, she is naturally shy."

_No shit._

"I'm just glad to be meeting people. I'm not thinking about dating anyone right now."

"I didn't say you had to ask her out!" Aunt Joanne says. "Besides, she might be a bit young for you."

_And she can't talk to me without practically pissing herself._

A few more hours of alone time playing video games and cleaning up my room later, my aunt and I eat a hearty dinner of delivery pizza. She says she hasn't had time to go shopping, which makes me wonder what she does for her job. What could possibly take up so much time?

"I'm a nurse at the doctor's office on the edge of town," she informs me. "I get called in suddenly a lot."

I nod. That makes sense, and would also explain how she can afford all her stuff. The two of us make small talk while watching some crime dramas on the TV. This is apparently how she spends alone time of her own; watching TV and counting down the hours before she has to go work again. She never has to go in on Saturday, but will apparently be gone tomorrow afternoon. Guess that means I'll have the house to myself for a while.

The weight of the day begins to crash onto my shoulders like a waterfall. I say goodnight to my aunt and head back up to my room, throwing myself onto my bed without a second thought. The Velvet Key and my wallet are on the nightstand beside me as I slip out of consciousness.

* * *

New York City. Dead as night. Nobody is there. No cars, no people, no sounds, only minimal light. The skyscrapers, normally illuminated with bright lights, now tower above me like monsters. My footsteps feel light and alien as I trudge down the street, looking for answers. The moonlight casts eerie glows through the corners of the street. As I walk farther forward, a shape begins to appear in the darkness. The figure emerges. She's a woman, young but old at the same time. The woman seems familiar to me, as if I've known her all my life.

Because I have.

"M-…Mom?"

My footsteps become harder and more forceful against the tar of the road. I throw myself into a full-on sprint, but the road seems to be getting longer the farther I go. No matter what I do, I can't catch up to her. Deep down, I know why I'm trying to reach her. Tears start to well up with the knowledge that if I don't reach her, I won't be able to save her.

A screeching of tires echo through the hollow streets. My running becomes more frantic, my screaming of her name turning into inane wailing. I can see her face, full of pain and sadness, as if she's saying she's sorry.

I stop dead in my tracks and fall to my knees as a taxi cab comes hurtling down the street, slamming into the figure of my mother dead-on.

Upon impact, my body springs up out of bed. Not the bed in North Dakota, but the bed in my apartment in New York. Outside the window, multiple stories down, I can see the bustling midday city. Cars are honking at each other, people are screaming.

I hate it.

My door creaks and a voice calls out to me.

"Tyson?"

I can't believe my ears. I turn around to see my mother standing in my bedroom, her young beauty shining. I do what every young man's instinct would be upon seeing his mother after witnessing such a horrific event – I rush up to her and embrace her. Her arms wrap around me, pulling me in tight.

"I had such a bad nightmare…"

"Don't worry, honey. Stay with me, and you'll be alright."

_Stay…stay with her…_

The ringing from before reappears, this time so strong the world around me vibrates.

_(Stop. It's a trick.)_

The voice is unfamiliar to me, but sounds so real I realize how hazy everything else was. The honking of a horn down below snaps me out of it. I pull away from my mother, her look of worry and confusion causing my heart to churn in my chest.

"Tyson…don't you want to stay with me? Where we'll be happy?"

_…this isn't right._

I back away. The further I get, the smaller the room feels and the angrier my mother becomes.

"I said stay with me," she demands. "You'll stay, won't you?"

_(Run. Now.)_

_ But there's nowhere to-…_

The window.

I can't believe this idea is sticking, but I step back closer to the window with my hand stretched in its direction.

"Stop!" my mother commands.

In one quick moment, my window opens, my mother leaps for me, and I throw myself into the air, falling into the abyss. The street rushes up to greet me, but caves in and reveals inky blackness.

**_Thud_**

* * *

_"G-gah!"_

I snap up, sweating, breathing heavily.

A nightmare. It was just a nightmare.

I check my phone's clock after recomposing myself. One in the morning. I kick off my sheets and strip down to my boxers to cool off and I stare into the ceiling, ignoring the shapes of my furniture in the darkness of my room.

I don't sleep for the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_-Sunday, August 4th, 2013-_

Daybreak. I don't remember when I fell asleep again, but it clearly wasn't for long, because now I feel like my body is superglued to my bed. I just flat out do not want to get up.

I lay in bed for a while longer until my phone's ringtone snaps me out of my grogginess.

"Hu-…hello?" I blurt out, rubbing my eyes.

"Hi Tyson," Aunt Joanne says on the other line. "S-sorry, did I wake you up?"

"No, technically not," I tell her in honesty.

"Oh. Well, anyways, I was going to wait to leave until you were awake, but my boss told me to come in immediately, so I had to go. Sorry about that. There's still leftover pizza from last night if you're hungry."

_Wait, doesn't she go to work around noon?_

My phone clock reads 2 PM.

_Mother of God, I slept past noon._

"Yeah, alright. Thanks."

"Why not go explore the neighborhood on your last day off?" she suggests. "There's a bike in the garage. You might need to refill the tires, though."

I decide that to be a fantastic idea. Maybe some fresh air and exercise is what I need. To make it even better, it's slightly cloudy out, so it seems it'll be more cool than humid.

"I might just do that," I reply, now sitting up in my bed.

"Alright then. I'll be home later tonight."

"Mm'kay. See you then."

-Click-

_ Not one for goodbyes, huh?_

I wash up and once again put on my summer outfit. I heat up some pizza, making sure to save a couple slices for later tonight, and chow them down within seconds. I'm surprised I'm this hungry. As Aunt Joanne said, there's an old bike inside the garage just leaning up against the wall. It looks a little small, but it's no big deal. It's in good condition and its dark blue paint is still strikingly clean. She was right, though; the tires are almost entirely flat. I fish out a bike pump from the boxes of crap scattered throughout the garage and ready up the vehic-…machi-…

_What even _are _bikes?_

Nevertheless, I am now riding through the neighborhood at full speed. As predicted, the weather is downright perfect; the cool air is flying past my face, blowing my hair around and keeping me sweat-free. The best part is how much room I have to explore. I would rarely get this huge of an area to bike in when I lived in New York. Most of the time, all I had was a park. This sense of freedom makes me feel…well, free.

_In fact, screw the neighborhood. I'm gonna trek this whole town._

I take off out of the development and out into the street. Because of how close the airport is, there's a decent amount of traffic, but the majority of those people probably don't even live in the town. It's like Gode is just a launchpad for everyone's vacations.

The worn-out end of town approaches, and I decide to check out the strip mall there. Small family-owned places, mostly, one of them being a bookstore.

_Hmm. Could use a book, I guess._

I put the bike up against the wall, silently cursing myself for not getting some sort of lock so I wouldn't have to explain to my aunt why her bike got stolen. Walking into the bookstore felt like getting slapped in the face with an old sock.

_Smells like rotting piss in here…_

It's incredibly dark inside the store, and what little light seeps through the windows up in the rafters illuminates dust specks that dance around the massive bookcases. Speaking of books, the books in here look centuries old. People must never come in here, either, because the shelves are literally overflowing with unsold books. Opened cardboard boxes are scattered across the floor each with their own torrent of novels flowing out of them.

"Is someone there?" I call out. The room is so full of crap that my voice sounds muffled and weak.

After a moment of quiet, I assume the owner is out or in the bathroom. I turn to leave-

_"H-HOLY SH-"_

"What do you want."

As if from thin air, an old hunched man with a cane and massive beard has appeared behind me. His tiny eyes squint at me with a new form of distain.

"For you to not give me a heart attack!"

The geezer doesn't really appreciate the humor. …though to be honest, I wasn't trying to be funny.

"Youth. You have no place here. These are archives for aged ones. Out with you."

"But-"

"Out." As he says this, he shoves the end of his cane into my chest.

And that's when the wooden cracks in the cane start to glow blue.

The man's tiny eyes go as wide as they can (which isn't much). His entire demeanor seems to change.

"You…" he says. "You're a-…"

I stare at him for a moment. "…can you move your…wand…thing?"

The man clears his throat and complies. He makes a slight motion with his hand for me to follow him as he scuttles deeper into the store. I quickly look back at the door. I could leave right this very second, but...

_Screw it. I've got nothing better to do._

I follow the man's "orders" and the two of us end up in some sort of backorder room that I swear is even stuffier than the main lobby. He hands me his cane, which, again, glows blue upon contact, and he begins shuffling through piles of books before finding the one he wanted. It's a dusty leather-bound book, with a large locket keeping it closed. We swap our items and he leans in close, far closer than I ever wanted anyone to get to me.

"Give this to him when you see him next. Tell him I'm sorry it took so long."

"Who're you talking abou-"

"Go. Leave me be."

_Oh, great, just what I wanted. To be handed random crap by some old pedophile and shoved out the door with his cane._

"But I don't even know what this-!"

I'm cut off by the slamming and locking of the store's wooden door.

"Nice to meet you, too…" I murmur to myself.

* * *

"Why won't you open?!"

I had made the trip back home and was now attempting to pry the lock off this book, but no matter how hard I try, whether it be with a hammer or pliers, it just won't open. The metal won't even bend. Either I'm weaker than I thought, or this is more of that unexplainable stuff that's been happening lately.

_Why couldn't I have moved somewhere else? Literally anywhere else?_

I decide that there's nothing else I can do with this book for now besides look at it. I brush off the excess amount of dust and reveal the front is decorated with…a pentagram?

_Ooookay, I need to get rid of this._

There, into the fireplace it go-…

_Why isn't it burning. Oh my god, it isn't burning. WHY ISN'T IT-_

With various tools by the fireplace, I manage to fish out the hellspawn of a book and examine it more closely, and yup, it didn't burn at all. It's not even singed. Slumping onto the ground, I drop the book and grab my face, the stress ready to make me outright explode. This kind of stuff shouldn't be happening to me. Not like I did anything to deserve it.

I take a deep breath, say, "Screw it," and take the book back up to my room, giving it a home in my nightstand drawer.

_This town's full of psychos._

* * *

A couple hours pass by and I realize that I've been sitting on the couch eating Maria's brownies and watching the news practically all day.

_…eh, I exercised. I earned it._

"And now for the weather," a decently attractive weatherwoman states. "Looks like the week is going to start off a bit cloudy and we might see some rain throughout the middle of the week, but as we reach the tail end of it, the sun should start to reappear, and next Sunday could possibly be sunny once again."

"Tch. These guys are never right," I tell myself as I down another brownie. There could be truth behind her words, though; the clouds from this morning never let up, even into the dark of night.

"…-nd the front should subside. Now back to your anchors."

A male news anchor now appears on the screen. "Thanks Bailey. Now for the top story of the day. As we reported earlier, it seems as though Bethany Jones, a morning talk show host for a local radio station in the small town of Gode, North Dakota, was found unmoving in her bed this afternoon after her coworkers grew suspicious of her not showing up for work earlier this morning."

_Why does that sound familiar…?_

"It appears as though she's still alive, but is not responding. She had shown no signs of trauma previously, and doctors are baffled. The police have been called in to perform an investigation by the request of her family, but it's unsure if they'll take the case, as there are no signs of foul play, either."

_Oh, now I remember. Yesterday…that was the lady on the radio._

I reach for another brownie, but find the plate empty. Looks like I'm going to have to explain that to Aunt Joanne later. Speaking of her, she still hasn't come home, and it's nearing ten o'clock. She did say she'd be out late, but it's starting to feel like waiting is a lost cause. The news turned to a relatively frustrating topic, so now's as good a time as ever to call it a night.

Besides, I've got school tomorrow.

* * *

_-Monday, August 5th, 2013-_

Another day, another lack of Aunt Joanne. I have a feeling I'll be alone a lot.

In her stead is a pile of school supplies and a backpack, all in a neat pile on the kitchen counter. A note beside them reads, "_Sorry I couldn't see you off. Have a good first day!_" and a little heart drawing beside it. Appreciating the sentiment, I hurriedly pack the backpack with the folders, pencils, etcetera, etcetera. The time is currently six forty-five. I've got time to kill.

Snatching a breakfast pastry from the pantry and savoring the flavor, I take one last look at myself in the mirror. My acne is entirely gone, my hair is evenly combed ever so slightly to the left, and my denim jeans, black rubber bracelet, and red t-shirt (my standard school clothes for the warmer weather), are all neat and ironed…more or less. Double-checking my belongings reassures me that I have my phone, its charger, my earbuds, wallet, all my school supplies…the key…

Hey, you never know when you'll need a magic key given to you by an old guy in your dreams.

A silver sedan approaches the driveway of the house and screeches to a halt. I finish the pastry and dash to the car, opening the right back door.

"'Ey, dude!" a boy in the passenger seat says to me. A sophomore, most likely. "Hop in!"

"Thanks," I mutter as I take my spot in the back seat. Next to me is Maria, looking more tired than shy this time. Now she's got on baby blue shorts and a baggy t-shirt. A necklace with smooth coral blue teardrop-shaped gems hangs from her neck. I assume this to be what she usually wears this time of year. "Hello again," I say to her with a smile.

Snapping out of her daze, she looks to me with a smile of her own and grunts a greeting back.

"Don't take the silence personally," another brother to Maria's left, seemingly a sophomore as well, tells me with a chuckle. "She's not a morning person." The other sophomore brother laughs with him.

_Well, that's one thing we have in common._

The eldest brother sitting in the driver's seat, presumably a senior, kicks the car into gear and bolts back down the driveway, heading for the exit to the neighborhood at a speed that should really get him pulled over.

"So who's your boyfriend there?" the senior says.

_Her what?_

"M-my wh-what?!" Maria's suddenly alert and awake…and flustered. "He's-…we-…w-we're not…"

"Dude, we…just met," I tell him, trying to save her from her cheeks getting any redder. If it does that, she could make me another batch of brownies by throwing batter in her face.

The senior just smirks to himself. "Whatever, man."

Sophomore number two, for the rest of the car ride, just keeps nudging Maria and asking her about me, despite her quiet protests. Sophomore number one tries talking to me about the crazy car he's planning on buying when he gets older, but I'm not listening. I'm half focused on keeping myself from punching sophomore number two and trying to not go into total panic mode from senior's batshit crazy driving. We eventually reach a school, but it's not the high school. "Sophomore" number two leaps out of the car and goes into a sprint into the school.

_Holy crap, that annoying little brat is an eighth grader._

Thankfully (I think?), we arrive to Gode High School in record time before anyone can pester Maria again. Senior and sophomore both get out and walk off into the school, leaving us two by our lonesome in the parking lot, which snakes through the school's surprisingly beautiful front lawn.

"I'm sorry about them…" she apologizes.

I shrug it off. "No big deal. Brothers are brothers, right?"

That response almost makes her more downtrodden. "Hmm…I guess so…"

Knowing that if I try harder I'm just gonna piss her off, I derail the subject. "So, what class do you have first?"

She flips through the first binder in the pile she's been holding in her arms and comes across her schedule. "AP Math," she points out.

_Geez, AP as a freshman?_

"You like math?"

"Sort of," she answers. "I like the algebra, but certain subjects just don't mesh well with me."

I've noticed that her speech has become a little more fluid as our conversation goes on, only to immediately go back to stuttering and mumbling when we walk through the school doors. She examines her school map before saying goodbye to me and walking off.

The inside is mostly brown brick with light white floor tile. The school's colors, which are exemplified in the "Welcome Students!" banners on the ceiling, are black, white, and gold. A little bland, but the sports teams will look badass. There aren't too many students in the hallways yet, but they could flood up any minute now with new arrivals. I take the time to find my first classroom – American Literature.

_At least I'm starting off with something remotely interesting._

Walking into the classroom I immediately spot a couple of students. One glasses-wearing girl is sitting in the very front row organizing her stuff, two guys and one girl are sitting on the desks, chatting it up in the middle of the room, and in the very back row with his head down is Emile, who's wearing khaki shorts and a white t-shirt with a gray silhouette of an electric guitar across the chest. The teacher is nowhere to be found.

I walk up to Emile and nudge his elbow.

"'Ey, dude. Rise and shine!" I joke with him.

He groans and lifts his head. "What the hell do you-…" he stops upon recognizing me. "O-oh, hey! It's you! 'Sup, man?" The two of us fistbump before I take a seat in the desk in front of him.

"Not much," I tell him. "Pretty tired, though."

Emile chuckles. "Well, yeah. It's a cloudy Monday. Of course everyone's gonna be dead tired!"

I shrug. "True. But it's the beginning of the school year. You'd think people would be…I dunno, excited? Even a little?"

"Excited?" Emile looks at me like my skin turned green. "It's school for God's sake. It's the time of the year where you have, like, _no_ freedom at all."

"Well geez, if you look at it that way…"

"What other way is there to look at it?" Emile smiling lets me know he's just messing with me. "Did'ya see the place? Looks like a damn prison."

_Well, he's not wrong._

"I'd rather look at school like the start of something new," I say. "Y'know, as a chance to meet new people."

Emile chuckles again. "You're friggin' crazy, you know that?"

Suddenly the school bell goes off. I look to the rest of the classroom and see that the rest of the students had shown up, the last couple stragglers rushing through the door trying not to be late (and ultimately failing). The teacher, a relatively young woman, stands at the front of the class and begins calling off the attendance sheet.

"Ellie Bordeaux…"

"Here."

"Tyler Clark…"

"Here."

The teacher continues down the list until she eventually reaches me.

"Tyson Rayne…"

"Here," I pronounce as I raise my hand.

"Emile Truman…"

…

"Emile Truman?"

I turn around and see Emile has passed out again, this time with his head propped up with his forearm. Thinking fast, I swipe his arm out from under him, causing him to faceplant his desk and wake up.

"_Snort_-…huh…wh-wha-? Oh, h-here!"

The class laughs slightly, the teacher included. Emile shoots me a dirty look, but I just smile at him.

He'll laugh about it later. …hopefully.

* * *

The next three classes pass by somewhat quickly. Second period marketing has a male teacher, this one being pretty nice and promises many creative projects. Third period is music tech, which will include some minor music theory taught by another male teacher. Not exactly happy about having to relearn music theory, but I'll need to refresh my memory on stuff like this if I ever plan on picking guitar up again in the future. The other students in the class sure seem like the creative type, one of them being a guy with an anime-themed shoulder bag and a girl with black hair in a large raised ponytail with one of those shirts that slides off one of the shoulders and onto the upper arm. Fourth period is history, taught by yet another male teacher. Contrary to most history classes I've been in, this guy seems really fun to have as a teacher. Lunch took place before fourth period, but I couldn't find anyone I knew, so I sat alone with some real shitty pizza. Overall, so far, so good.

As I'm leaving history and I trudge into the surging crowd, I look at my next period.

Physics.

_Aw, dammit._

I walk into the classroom, this being one built for science classes with black counters and stools instead of standard desks. I scan the room looking for anyone I know, despite the last few classes crushing my hopes of having another one with Emile or one with-…

"Hey, Maria!" I greet the blonde as I walk up to her seat.

She nearly jumps at seeing me, her blush once again returning. "T-Tyson!"

"Mind if I sit next to you?" I ask with a smile. She shakes her head and I take my seat to her right.

_These stools are murder on my back._

"Physics and AP Math, huh?" I say to her. "And only a freshman, too. You must be some sort of prodigy."

She somehow manages to blush harder. "I-it's…well, I guess so," she stammers out. "At the rate I'm going, my counselor says I could graduate after Junior year and skip my Senior year entirely."

I notice a thick sketchbook in her pile of stuff. "You draw?" I question as I point at the wire-bound book.

"Oh, uh…yeah," she replies.

"Mind if I…?"

She shakes her head slightly and pulls the book out from her stuff, flipping it open and showing me her drawings.

_Good God, these are amazing…_

The book is full of wonderfully-shaded drawings of people and scenery, all of them looking so realistic I swear I could jump into the pages like portals.

"These are _really_ good…" I tell her. "I'd never be able to draw like this."

She smiles sheepishly. "It just takes a little practice. Oh," she exclaims as she flips to another page, this one being a close-up of a girl with flowing hair and closed eyes. "I've submitted this one to a portrait contest. I don't know if it's been accepted yet, but I hope I'll hear back soon."

"Wouldn't be surprised if you won," I honestly tell her. "Never seen anything so realistic done in pencil before."

She's once again become comfortable talking to me. Hopefully her attitude stays like that.

I examine the room to see who else is in this class. Nobody else really stands out, but a couple people I've seen but haven't talked to in my other classes are in this one with me as well. Maria is to my left, but to my right is the same glasses-wearing boy I saw with the girl in the yellow dress at the strip mall on my first day here. He's sleeping the same way Emile had this morning when the teacher called him.

This teacher, an older male, begins calling out roll. Eventually he reaches a name that nobody answers to, but the other students look over to the glasses kid next to me.

…

**_Thud_**

"H-here!" he shouts.

This is my new favorite thing to do to people.

* * *

"My face still hurts."

"Dude, I said I was sorry."

Emile and I are now in the last period of the day – Math. My previous class, driver's ed., kinda just flew by. Electives tend to do that.

"Hah, I know, man. I'm just guilt tripping you."

The rest of the class rushes by, with the only female teacher in my schedule except for first period introducing the class with basic information like where to turn in their homework.

Halfway through the class, the clouds burst with a torrent of rain.

_Hope it clears up before I get off the bus. The stop's way down the road._

As the final bell of the day rings, my headache from yesterday seems to return, ringing and all. Emile takes notice of my rubbing my temple and asks me if I'm alright.

_(Magician.)_

_ For the love of-…_

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lie. "Probably coming down with something."

"Hmm…" he grunts. "…well, hey, get better quick, alright? Was thinking we could hang out sometime this week."

_That was fast._

"Oh, sure. I'll let you know when I'm up for it."

"Sweet! Lemme get your number real quick."

The two of us swap phone numbers and go our separate ways at the bus pickup. Boarding my bus, I find the inside to be real musty due to the rain. During the whole ride home, I struggle to stay awake.

* * *

**_Slam_**

And now I'm home, standing by the front door, completely and utterly soaked.

I blame karma.

"You're hom-…oh. Crap," Aunt Joanne says as I walk in. "U-um…sorry about that."

"It's fine," I say as my skin twitches under the clothes. I distain having wet clothes. The momentary adrenaline of running home begins to pass and the tiredness settles in again. "I'm gonna take a nap."

"A-alright…" she responds, obviously feeling bad. To be honest, I _am_ a little upset. If she was home, she could've picked me up.

Whatever. Water under the bridge. …or on my clothes. Both, really.

I dry off in the bathroom before switching my clothes out for sweatpants and a t-shirt and flop onto my bed. With nothing but the sound of rain reaching my ears, I drop into a comfortable sleep.

* * *

I'm still lying on my back, but a rigid cold surface is underneath me. I'm not in my bed anymore. My eyes crack open as I force myself to stand. Doing so seems much more difficult than it should be, probably due to the intense pressure of the room. It feels as though something is pushing down on me.

Looking around, I determine that I'm in a school. Not Gode, though. It's my old school in New York. The walls are painted black and blue, and the whole place just seems so much more homey, yet demented at the same time.

_Another nightmare?!_

I hear a noise coming from the darkness. No ceiling lights are on so the school's only slightly lit by the moonlight coming through the windows, but the far reaches of the hallways seem darker than they should be, as if they'll swallow me up-…

Okay, so they might actually do that. Black tendrils of darkness lash out from the hallway, grabbing my ankles and pulling me to the ground.

"SH-SHIT-**OOMPH!**"

I grab for the floor and manage to hold on to the cracks in the tiles. The shadowy arms have a firm grip and tug me towards the cloud of blackness behind me, but I refuse to let them take me. I'm not going down without a fight, even if this is some crazy dream.

It's then that I see a shape appear at the other end of the hall in the same way my mother had in my nightmare the other night. It's a girl, my height, with striking eyes and long brunette hair. She's in a beautiful dress covered in flowers. I'd know that face anywhere, despite not seeing her for the longest time.

"Anna…"

Unlike the other night, however, the figure – my ex-girlfriend from New York – calls out to me.

"Tyson…"

The tendrils reach out for her as well, pulling her in the opposite direction. I can hear her scream, but alongside it is another scream, one I can't recognize. I claw at the floor, pulling as hard as I can, but the tendrils are stronger.

I manage to kick one off, giving myself some leverage. Something to use to my advantage. I run forward, trying to reach Anna.

_"Anna!"_

She screams again, this time with more fear than I've ever heard coming from a person. Another shadowy arm grabs my wrist, only for me to get a surge of adrenaline.

"Get…_off of me!"_

I rip the arm out of the pool of darkness with my strength alone, and stomp out the remaining arms clutching my ankles. With all my strength, I rush forward down the hallway, diving for Anna's hands and tug hard.

"I'm not letting you die here!"

"T-Tyson?!"

"_Come on! Don't give up!"_

"What's going on?!"

"That doesn't matter! Just help me out here!"

The two of us struggle as hard as we possibly can, but the wall of darkness behind me has shifted, moving closer and closer to the both of us. The arms reach out again, one grabbing me by the neck and another by the right calf. All I can do I pull harder on Anna, but the arms are pulling on her just as hard.

"Tyson, I can't-"

_"Stop it! Don't say that!"_

A single tear streams down her face. No matter how hard I'm trying to save her, she's given up hope. She's finished.

The desperation and knowledge that I can't win this fight seeps in and I start wailing and crying again. I want to save her. I want to help her. I don't want to give up. But I don't seem to have a choice.

With one last pull, I'm dragged into the darkness, my grip ripped from hers, and Anna is pulled into her own cloud of black, blood-curling cries echoing through the emptiness.

The darkness fades away to reveal the school courtyard, only the walls are seeping with blood and the tendrils, reaching out from the ground, still have a firm hold on me. The sky is cloudy and dark, but everything is somehow still illuminated in light blue.

**_"It's your fault."_**

"H-huh?!"

I look up to see a large burly figure entirely made of a dark purple pulsating shadowy mass. In his right arm, holding her by the throat, is Anna, only she's limp and entirely a crystalline blue. Her eyes are a plain soulless white.

**_"You did this to her." _**The voice tells me. It seems to be coming from the figure, and seems vaguely familiar, but terribly distorted. **_"It was your choice. You brought this hell on her."_**

"What're you talking about?!" I scream. "Let her go, you sick bastard!"

**_"It's too late," _**it continues. **_"You were offered bliss and you chose to escape. You made the conscious decision to abandon a happier place. Now you'll experience true purgatory for such actions. You'll suffer for it, and for all the other crimes you've committed."_**

"Wh-what the hell…" I can't believe my ears. Is he referring to the nightmare with my mom? That wasn't a happier place…it was all a trick! It was some sick mockery! "What are you talking about?! I wasn't the one that hurt her! It was a huge mistake!"

**_"Lies. All of it. You know the truth. You, deep down, know of the evils you committed. No matter of words or actions can repair the damages you caused. This is where you die, Tyson Rayne."_**

The figure approached me, dropping the figure of Anna on the ground, parts of it shattering to bits against the concrete. My stomach churned at the sight.

_This can't be happening…am I going to die in my own dream?!_

The ringing goes off in my ears again, so deafening it's like a gunshot right by my head. Random gibberish voices cycle through my brain, all of them screaming at me. If this keeps going, I'm going to go completely postal. I'm on the brink of insanity.

As if it was cycling through languages, the voices settle on one to speak. It plays in my mind, speaking strongly and clearly.

**_I…am thou…_**

_Wh-?!_

**_Thou…art I…_**

**_From the sea of thy soul, I call out to thee…_**

**_Open thine eyes and awaken what is within…_**

A source of warmth appears before me. I look up and open my eyes as directed. I see floating in front of me a blue playing card, with blue flames circling it. It's spinning slowly, radiating a crazy amount of power and casting a blue glow across my face. The backside has the same symbol as on the Velvet Key, while the other side is a blank silver.

I reach my hand out, my open palm facing upwards towards the card, as if I know what I'm doing, like it's second nature.

My mouth opens, a single word deep in my throat.

"Per…"

The flames on the card glow brighter.

"So…"

A ring of energy circles me, the dark arms within range disintegrating.

"Na…"

The large figure steps back, clearly afraid.

I'd be, too.

With a final burst of strength, I crush the card with my hand, energy exploding from my body and the card shattering like glass. A loud yell from within my stomach bursts forth, echoing in the emptiness in the realm of my dream. I feel…powerful. This newfound power brings me to my feet. I notice that the explosion of energy from within me was just that- an explosion. It completely leveled the walls of the school around me, leaving just me and the shadowy figure, who was still keeping his distance.

**_I am Ixion…_**

**_He who was banished to the Underworld for wrongdoings…_**

_(To hell with that, though.)_

The voice was now within my head, talking directly to me.

_(I'm not gonna let someone keep me down like that.)_

I look above me, shocked at what I see. It's a tall man in a fancy black business suit and tie. His left hand is placed on the knot of the tie, and his right hand is holding a sword. A metal clasp is on his left ankle, a chain leading from it to a large floating metal ball. Fire erupts from it, emitting an orange light among the blue.

_(Good job on summoning me, kid. Just in time, too.)_

He drops his sword from above me, letting it land in my hand. It's the perfect weight, with a long blade and a wooden handle.

The entity, who I know as Ixion, readjusts his tie and his thick black sunglasses. His slicked-back blonde hair slightly waves in the energy flying around the air.

_(We gonna kick some ass, or what?)_

I flash a maniacal grin. I wanted to fight, didn't I?

The blue flames subside, but my strength remains.

_"COME ON!" _I scream as I rush for the Shadow.

It quickly comes to its senses and reels back its fist, ready to punch. I leap out of the way and use the momentum to bounce off my heel and thrust my blade deep into the shoulder opposite the one it was using. It screams out in pain and throws me off if its body. I grunt as I hit the hard floor, bouncing multiple times. Normally extreme force would knock you out of a dream, but this…this is all too real. Somehow, though, I'm barely hurt, when something like that would give any normal person a headache.

Clearly, I'm not normal anymore.

"Ixion! Agi!" I yell out, somehow recalling the name of something that I knew would help me.

The floating figure of Ixion snaps his fingers, and a blast of fire erupts around the Shadow, who flies backwards. The force of the blast sends my sword out of its shoulder and into the air, to which I run after and catch before it hits the ground. Ixion disappears into a blue mist after performing the fire spell.

_(Call me whenever you need me, kid. It's my job, after all.)_

Before the Shadow could get to its feet, I go into a full sprint, leap into the air, and thrust the sword downward in an icepick grip straight into its heart.

**_"AAAAUGH!"_**

I pull the sword back out, reaching behind me for a wide swing to its neck. The horizontal cut brings forth a pool of black and red liquid, presumably its blood. It once again grabs me and throws me. It's weakening, but it isn't over yet.

As if by will alone, Ixion's card, which now has a picture of him on the side that was previously blank, floats down in front of me. I backhand it with my left hand, breaking it, and Ixion reappears before me.

_(You catch on fast.)_

_ I've been told._

"Cleave!"

Ixion spawns another sword, one identical to mine, and rushes the Shadow at a surprising speed for one who's chained down. It slices diagonally across the whole of the Shadow, and before it can retaliate, Ixion vanishes once more.

The Shadow is now leaning on one knee, in pain and unable to move.

_"I'm done with you!" _I scream as I run towards the Shadow and plunge my blade directly into its scalp. It lets out a roar of pain, and dissolves into a pool of the blood.

"_Pant…pant…pant…_"

Even though I'm dreaming, I feel my body is worn out. I close my eyes and drop to the floor. The world around me begins to disappear, fading to white. I feel my body waking up, but in a way that feels pure as opposed to dropping into an abyss like last time.

I feel good.

_Tyson Rayne's new power places freedom within reach._

_He has awakened to the Persona Ixion,_

_The façade used to overcome one's hardships._

My eyes snap open. Above me is the ceiling of my bedroom, the fan casting shadows throughout. On my nightstand is a lukewarm plate of steak. Seems I slept through dinner.

I grab my face and rub my eyes, still recovering from my nightmare-…no, it wasn't a nightmare. It was too real. I felt it all. That new power…

_Persona…_

It's mine now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_-Tuesday, August 6th, 2013- _

"…and then I beat the shit out of it."

"Dude," Emile says as he leans back in his seat. "Why can't my dreams be as badass as that?!"

First thing I said to Emile as I entered first period was what I experienced the night before. Of course, I left out a few details, mainly about Anna and how I almost died for real. Even with that information cut out, Emile still seems riled up.

I shrug at his remark. "Maybe I'm just cooler."

Emile scoffs. "Oh, c'mon, that's not fair."

"I'm kidding, man," I say with a laugh.

The teacher, Mrs. Evans, walks into the room as the bell rings.

"Alright everyone; take your seats, please," she asks of us. "It'll take me a while to learn your names, so I'm going to have to do roll call the hard way again. Just let me know if I butcher your last name."

The class chuckles slightly at her remark, and thankfully, my story kept Emile awake long enough to hear his own name called. Mrs. Evans has us open our books to read an excerpt from _Uncle Tom's Cabin, _a story about slavery written by a woman sometime around the American Civil War period, as well as some information about it on the side. She begins asking questions after we're done reading it, one of them directed to Emile.

"Why was the publishing of this book so important?"

"…shit, dude, I didn't actually read any of this!" Emile curses under his breath. "Help me out here!" He stalls for time by saying, "Um…" out loud.

"It helped the public realize how bad slavery was," I say to him. He relays the answer back to Mrs. Evans.

"Correct," she applauds. "But next time, try answering it on your own. I'm not stupid."

The other students laugh again.

"Dammit…" Emile dejectedly says to himself.

As class ends, I stop Emile before he runs off to his next class. "Hey, we gonna hang out this week or what?"

"Oh, right…" he says. He almost seems apologetic. "There's something going on at home, so I can't tonight. I might be able to tomorrow."

I nod in agreement. "That's fine. See you in math, then."

Emile nods and heads down the hall, leaving me with my music.

* * *

"Welcome home!" Aunt Joanne says as I walk through the door. "Hey, I was just about to go to the mall for some clothes. You wanna come with me?"

_I could use a new video game…_

_ (You've got your priorities straight, huh?)_

_ Shut up._

Oh, did I not mention? Ixion's been talking to me virtually all day. And he won't shut up. So I guess that settles the debate of whether that dream was real or not.

"Yeah, sure," I say as I place my backpack on the floor by the stairs.

"Lemme just change out of my work clothes first," she says.

Roughly twenty minutes later, we arrive at the outlet mall. Aunt Joanne heads for a clothing store, while I tell her I'm going to look around for a bit.

"Alright," she says. "Don't get lost."

"No promises," I call back as I walk down the pathway.

Not many people from school are here today, which is to be expected of a Tuesday. The sky is still covered in a blanket of clouds and the ground is wet from fresh rain. It hadn't rained since noon, but the air still feels thick with moisture. Some people are walking around with their umbrellas out. I quietly laugh at them, considering that it isn't actually raining. Not yet, anyway.

I walk into the game store, and a bell goes off letting the employees know I'm here. Music from a popular series is playing over the loudspeakers, and a couple kids are sitting by the front door trading data between their portable games. The three employees behind the counter, despite hearing the bell, are deep in conversation. I examine the racks of console games, checking out the back covers and price tags.

"You hear about that radio host?" a male employee asks the other two.

"Yeah, I did. Isn't she dead?" another one responds, this one a girl.

"What? No," the first employee says. "Why would she be dead?"

"Because the doctors treating her said her pulse is weaker every time they check on her," the third worker, another male, says. "It's like she's just fading away."

The female shivers. "That's just creepy…what caused it?"

"They have no idea," guy one tells her.

_(Hey, kid.)_

I jump at hearing Ixion's voice again. He's got a tendency to talk with no warning at all. He keeps doing this in public and I'll end up looking like a complete psychopath.

_ Geez…what do you want?_

_ (Look up.)_

_ …what am I supposed to be looking at?_

_ (Window. Across the street.)_

I follow his directions, eventually finding the antique store across the parking lot. Next to it is the sub shop Emile worked at, but between them…

Putting the game case in my hand back on its shelf, I exit the store and approach the alleyway. Placed in between the two stores is a glowing blue door decorated with gold markings, one that isn't connected to any buildings whatsoever.

_What is that?_

After a quick look around, it seems as if nobody else notices the door. Either that, or they're choosing to ignore it. Finding the former more likely, I walk closer to it. It's just far enough into the alley that nobody would see me if I go inside. Unless they were spying on me, of course.

A warmth appears in my left pocket that wasn't there before. I reach in and pull out the Velvet Key. Realizing what this means, my heart begins to pound.

Maybe now everything will make sense.

_Click…_

_ Squeeeeeak…_

My vision fades to white as I step inside.

* * *

"Welcome to the Velvet Room…"

_…oh no._

It's like I've traveled back in time. The place is exactly as I remember it. The violet colors, the bar, the piano, the old guy, the lady-…

Actually, that last one's new.

"I see you have awakened to your Persona," Igor points out. "I must congratulate you. It occurred sooner than I anticipated."

"Persona…" I repeat. "What _is _a Persona?"

"Think of it as a kind of mask," Igor responds with a laugh. "One that you wear in the face of hardships. It is a manifestation of your inner psyche, one powered by the strength of one's own heart."

"So my heart literally has a mind of its own."

Igor chuckles. "That sure is an odd way of putting it. But, in a sense, yes. Ixion was the one who headed your call, I see. The man who wronged Zeus after he showed him kindness and was promptly banished to the Underworld."

_(Guilty as charged.)_

The explanation of Ixion's origin sets a knot in my stomach. This guy really does represent me…

"Hey, Igor…" I speak up, wanting to know some things from him. "Can I ask you a couple questions? These last few days have been…well…"

"Confusing?" Igor finishes the sentence for me. "I understand. This sudden change in your life is expected to raise questions. Ask away. I will answer to the best of my abilities."

"First off, I've been hearing voices in my head when I look at people. It usually just says one word, but I don't know what they mean."

"Ah, yes…I assume you've heard words like, 'Star', 'Tower', or 'Magician'…"

The first two don't ring a bell, but the third one stands out like a clothed guy on a nudist beach.

_(…you have some odd comparisons, kid.)_

"Yeah, that," I tell Igor. "What do those words mean?"

"Have you not heard of the Arcana?" Igor questions.

"The traditional deck of tarot cards holds twenty-two numbered cards, each of them called an 'Arcana'," the lady at the far end of the bar tells me. The way she talks is rather matter-of-fact, making her sound somewhat bored. Her wavy blonde hair reaches her shoulder blades and her eyes are-…holy crap, they're yellow. "Everyone has a single Arcana that represents their personality. Yours, for example, is of the Fool Arcana."

"Oh, gee, thanks."

"You misunderstand," Igor tells me. "The Fool is of great importance. Its number is zero – empty, but full of potential. Being of the Fool Arcana also grants you the ability of the Wild Card."

"Wild Card?"

"Most individuals who are granted or gain the use of a Persona are limited to only one," he says. "However, because you are a Wild Card, you have the rare ability to wield a multitude of Personas at once."

"Every Persona has an Arcana as well," the blonde lady continues. "And this is where Social Links come into play."

"You see, the services I can provide to you, as stated in our contract, include fusing Personas together to create brand new ones. Fused Personas are more powerful than the original ones, but you can make them even stronger by creating bonds with someone of a matching Arcana. The stronger the bond, the stronger the Persona. This process is known as a 'Social Link'."

"So I have to get closer to people for my own personal gain?" I ask. "That doesn't exactly sound fair. In fact, it makes me sort of an asshole."

"That's one way to look at it," Igor replies. "But a negative attitude such as that will make it more difficult to attain a Social Link. It can only become a true Social Link if you or the individual you are bonding with feels a genuine friendship. However, keep in mind that forging an unbreakable bond with someone is a difficult path to walk, and that you may reach barriers in preventing the furthering of your bond. Thankfully, utilizing the Personas you have at your disposal can make this journey much easier."

"That's just it, I only have Ixion," I state. "I can't fuse Personas or switch to a new one. He's all I've got."

_(You say that like it's a bad thing.)_

"Do not worry," Igor tells me. "That will take care of itself in the future."

"If you obtain a new Persona or wish to recall a Persona you used in Fusion," the blonde informs me. "You may talk to me. The book I have in my hands is known as the Persona Compendium, which will record the Personas you obtain. They can be registered and recalled for later use…for a price."

"Does this all make sense to you?" Igor asks.

"Honestly? No," I reply. "This is all completely crazy and any normal person would think I went batshit if I told them about this. But if you're asking if I understand what you're telling me, then yes, I do."

"Good," Igor says with a smile. "You learn at an exceptional rate."

I glance over to the lady, who I assume to be the assistant Igor mentioned when I came here last time. "That book…I've seen it before, I think."

Her eyes grow wide. "You-…you've seen the Compendium elsewhere?"

"Yeah…" I attempt to recall when I had. It suddenly comes back to me. "Some old guy in a bookstore with a glowing cane gave it to me. In fact, I think I was supposed to bring it to you." I tell that last part to Igor. "He said, 'Sorry it took so long'."

Igor's face contorts in thought. "I see…it would be of utmost importance to bring that book to us next we meet. Please, do not forget to do so."

"If you have any more questions, feel free to return here at any time," the lady says. "Time does not pass here, so you can stay as long as you'd like."

"Right…" I say. I thought this information would make me feel better, but it's just replaced confusion with worry.

"Now, Margaret," Igor says to the lady. "Please, see our guest out. He has a destiny to fulfill." He looks back to me. "'Till we meet again."

* * *

I check my phone's clock. It's been almost an hour, and I've been sitting in the dressing area of a clothing store waiting for my aunt to finish. She just can't pick a dress, it seems.

_(Urgh…)_

_ What's wrong with you?_

_ (I'm attached to you, kid. If you have to suffer through this, then so do I.)_

_ Ouch. Sorry._

Ixion doesn't respond. Seems like the both of us are ready to lose it.

"What about this one?"

I look over to see Aunt Joanne showing me another dress.

"Look, just get whatever you want," I tell her. "I'm not a girl. I don't know anything about fashion."

"But does this look good?"

"Yeah, yeah, it does. Sure."

Aunt Joanne sighs. "You want to go home, don't you?"

I give her a sarcastic 'no shit' look.

"Alright, just gimme five more minutes."

_(That's five too many.)_

_ What're you going to do about it? It's not like I can summon you out here._

_ (That barrier is a pain in the ass.)_

Ixion's been saying something about a barrier lately, one that's preventing him from coming out of my head. I'm not really sure what's causing it, but maybe that's another thing I'll have to find out later.

True to her word, Aunt Joanne takes us to the checkout and we finally leave. I flop onto the couch the instant we get home and breathe a sigh of relief.

"You're not one for shopping, are you?"

"Not in the slightest," I tell her.

"…sorry."

I look over to her, slightly shocked. "What're you apologizing for?"

She sighs and takes a seat on the couch. "I haven't been doing a very good job taking care of you. I was gone for almost two whole days right when you got here, I didn't come get you when it rained, and now I dragged you along on a shopping trip that you didn't even want to go on. I'm sorry, Tyson…"

"What're you talking about?" I ask. She's unusually sullen, as if this is something that's been bugging her for a while. "You've been feeding me, you got me all my school supplies, you brought me dinner last night when I was out cold…and most of all, you actually took me in."

That last one caught her attention. She quickly looks up at me, now with her own look of shock.

"Out of all my family members, you're the one that showed me the hospitality that nobody else would. That's all I really needed. The fact that I even have a bed to sleep in makes up for a crappy shopping trip."

She looks at me and gives me a huge smile. "Well, I'm glad you're here. It's nice to have some company again."

I smile in return.

**SMASH**

Time has stopped dead in its tracks, myself included. The sound of glass smashing echoes through my mind as the picture of a playing card appears before me. The face shows an orange sun, and it's labeled with the Roman numeral of the number twenty. A disembodied voice calls out to me.

**Thou art I,  
****And I am thou.**

**Thou hast established a new bond,  
****One that brings freedom ever closer.**

**Thou shalt be blessed when thou choosest  
****to make a Persona of the Sun Arcana…**

The card fades from my vision and everything returns to normal. Aunt Joanne isn't affected at all and I pretend it never even happened. With all this crazy stuff happening lately, I gotta learn to do that so people don't think I'm nuts.

_The Sun Arcana, huh? So that means I have a Social Link now._

_(Only a whole twenty-one more to go.)_

_Way to dump on my parade._

After the two of us eat dinner, I head up to my room and boot up my computer. After a few minutes, I now have a cheat sheet printed out with every Arcana in the tarot deck. Major Arcana, that is. Apparently there are even more, those ones being listed as the Minor Arcana, but I assume that nobody has those ones as Margaret only mentioned twenty-two. I pull out a pen and scribble "Aunt Joanne" next to "XX - Sun". If I carry this around wherever I go, it'll hopefully keep me organized in who I've got Links with.

_…Which one was Emile?_

_(Magician, I think.)_

_Arcana Number 1…better talk to him tomorrow, then._

* * *

_-Wednesday, August 7th, 2013-_

The principal starts off the day by reading off some announcements over the intercom, something he doesn't normally do.

_"Those who are looking to apply for the track or ultimate frisbee teams should have their forms filled out and turned in by Monday of next week to their respective coaches," _he reads. _"The first of the extracurricular clubs should be opening up by the 19th of this month. Acquire with their host teachers if you wish to join."_

Seems baseball won't happen until spring. Makes sense, I guess. For now, though, I should probably look into one of those other sports. As for clubs, I'll have to find out what they have.

"You gonna join a team?" I ask Emile, who I once again have to wake up.

"I'm already on the swim team," he says after slapping himself across the face to keep from falling asleep. "They don't let you double up on teams."

"But I can join a club and a sport, right?"

"Yeah, if you wanna have no free time whatsoever."

"Speaking of free time, are we doing something today?"

"O-oh, right, yeah. I'm free today."

"Cool. Wanna walk over to the mall? I can have my aunt take us home after we're done."

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

_Holy crap, I do _not _understand a single bit of this worksheet…_

_(I was never taught this…)_

_I thought Greeks invented math?_

_(This isn't math, kid. It's modern torture.)_

"Hey, Maria…can you help me out with number four?"

"I-I'm still stuck on number two!"

_I'm screwed._

* * *

As the last bell for the day rings, I tell Emile to meet me at the front door to the school and we both split to get what we need out of our lockers. For the first time, I notice whose locker neighbors mine, and holy crap, she's hot. She's a good dresser, too – she's in a black shirt and white skirt, plus platform flip-flops and silver stud earrings.

_(Empress.)_

_(…kid, stop staring.)_

I quickly avert my eyes before she catches on, but I can't help overhear the conversation between her and another guy as she walks away.

"Oh, c'mon, not again."

"N-no, Rachel, please, hear me out…" the guy pleads.

"I said no. Knock it off."

"Why not? Not even for coffee or something?"

At that point, she just scoffs and pushes past him. I pass by the dejected student as I head for the school's front entrance, finding Emile there patiently waiting.

"Ready man?" he asks.

"Yup. Let's go."

"Oh Emiiiiile…" an unknown voice taunts.

"Dammit," Emile curses under his breath.

I turn to see a cheery-eyed redheaded girl bounding up the hallway, seemingly a sophomore. The right side of her somewhat short hair flips outward and her bangs do the same, but the left side falls straight down. She readjusts the elbow-length sleeves of her blue and red plaid button-up as she reaches us.

"You going somewhere, huh?" she asks Emile, with a slight sneer in her voice.

_(Star.)_

"Uh…yeah, I was taking Tyson to the mall. We were gonna hang out." He realizes the two of us haven't met yet and quickly introduces us. "O-oh, right, uh…Tyson, Ally. Ally, Tyson. She's my neighbor."

"Hey," I say with the wave of my hand.

"'Sup!" she replies with a gleaming smile. She looks back to Emile and begins to plead with him. "You told me we'd hang out again soon!"

Emile rubs the back of his head and smirks. "Y-yeah, I know, I did. I'm sorry, but this week's been busy. I thought I'd spend what little free time I had showing Tyson around. He just moved here."

"Well, hey, why can't she tag along?" I suggest. I kind of feel bad for her, considering that, by the sound of things, Emile had already promised to spend some time with her. Plus, she seems like a really cool person.

"W-wait, really?" Emile stammers out. "I didn't think you'd be okay with that."

Meanwhile, Ally's just jumping for joy. Literally. And giggling, too.

"C'mon, let's go!" she yells as she grips my and Tyson's wrists and drags us out the door.

"G-geez, Ally, let up a little!" Emile yells back.

* * *

Next thing we know, we're getting dragged into a women's fragrance store and our noses are assailed with burning chemicals and citrus scents. The redhead continuously sprays us and begs us to tell her which one we think is best, to which I answer with hearty coughing caused by the vapors. While Ally has a hard time picking out the bottle she wants, Emile and I sneak out of the store to get some fresh air.

"This is humiliating…" Emile sighs.

"I think some of that singed my nose hairs," I tell him, taking deep breaths of the cold outdoor air. "Does she do this a lot?"

"Frequently enough, yeah," he says. "I love her and all, but she can drive me crazy."

"Love her?" I question. "What, you got a thing for her?"

Emile's face immediately goes red. "Wh-what? No, what're you talking about? I've known her since we were really young. She's like the little sister I never had. We used to play together all the time and race each other on our scooters…stuff like that."

"They say best friends can turn into relationships, y'know," I tell him mockingly.

He simply scoffs at my remark. "Yeah…no. I've seen too many of those situations go under. I'm not going to let that blow up in my face and lose a friend over it."

_Sad part is, he's right._

"Hey, I gotta piss. Be right back," Emile states as he darts past a few stores and around the corner to the public bathroom. The opening of the perfume store's doors signal me to take in a deep breath and hold it.

"He dragged you outside, huh?" Ally asks, holding a paper bag with her new perfume.

After reassuring myself the door had closed, I'm free to open my mouth again. "Less, 'he dragged me out' and more, 'I ran out with him'." I smirk to let her know I'm joking. She seems to get the idea.

"Tell ya what; I'll let you guys pick the next place to go," she offers. "How about the comic store?"

"There's a comic store here?!" I react in surprise. I had no clue there was a comic book store, but I'm glad I know now.

Ally laughs and motions for me to follow her.

"We have to wait for Emile, though," I point out. "He went to the bathroom."

"O-oh, right," she responds. "How long has he been?"

I shrug. "Couple minutes, maybe?" After a little more waiting in silence, we decide to go to the bathrooms to see what's keeping him. As we reach the alleyway, a familiar voice comes from around the corner.

"Joe, cut it out!"

Ally lightly taps my arm. "Is that Emile?"

"I think so…should we go check on him?"

She flashes a stern look. "That's the boy's bathroom! I'm not going in there!"

"Ugh," I respond. "Fine. Wait here."

I walk into the bathroom and I'm greeted with Emile's form flying past me and slamming into the wall.

"What the hell?!" I call out. I look over to Emile's assailant and-…

_Holy crap, he's huge…_

_ (I didn't know someone's voice could crack in their head.)_

"You wanna start somethin' too?" the bully, Joe, says to taunt me.

"I didn't even start anything…" Emile groans.

I help Emile to his feet while ignoring the verbal abuse coming from the other kid. Eventually getting fed up with the guy, I yell, "Oh, shut up already!" before dragging Emile out of the bathroom.

Ally runs to her friend, clearly worried. "Oh my god! Are you okay?!"

I realize he's more beat up than I thought. He has no visible cuts, but his lower chin looks bruised and he seems to be in a daze. He almost can't walk in a straight line.

"I'm fine," Emile insists. "Just let me sit down."

The two of us guide him to a nearby bench and Ally sits beside him. He slumps to the side with his head on her shoulder and groans. She looks at me with a worried expression.

_(That kid can't take a punch, can he? I hope you're more resilient.)_

Ignoring Ixion, I turn to Emile and ask him what happened.

"Went into the bathroom. He called me Emily and a fag. I called him out on it. He punched me. Usual routine."

_Usual…?!_

_ (Hmm. That big fella must single out the whole 'feminine name' thing and prey on that.)_

_ What an asshole._

I look at the faces of my friends, seeing Emile ready to pass out and Ally trying to calm him down.

And that's when I snap.

I turn around and march back into the bathroom, seeing Joe fixing his hair in the mirror. Before he can react, I've grabbed his shoulder and pulled back. Using my foot as a pivot against his own foot, I let gravity do the rest and carry him to the ground. I slam my heel into his face to reaffirm his newfound situation and turn back to leave.

"Mocking people is a dickish thing to do," I tell his stunned form as I exit. "But if you must, at least come up with something more clever and without insensitive and thoughtless slurs."

"What happened in there?" Ally asks as I come back out of the bathroom. "I heard a thud."

"Knocked him on his ass," I confirm.

Emile looks at me with a confused face. "You…you what?"

"Nobody calls my friends stuff like that and gets away with it. There's a special circle in Hell for those people."

The bruised boy just smiles, and I take it as a 'thanks'.

**SMASH**

**Thou art I,  
****And I am thou.**

**Thou hast established a new bond,  
****One that brings freedom ever closer.**

**Thou shalt be blessed when thou choosest  
****to make a Persona of the Magician Arcana…**

I text Aunt Joanne to have her come pick us up. Emile's in no shape to walk around, so the comic store will have to wait. My aunt pulls up in her van next to us and we escort Emile inside, and, as expected, she freaks out over his current state.

"What happened to him?!" she wails.

"He got into a fight," I tell her. "Don't worry. It's taken care of."

The slight hint of malice in my voice throws her off guard and almost seems to scare her a bit. She doesn't ask any more questions for the rest of the ride, save for asking Ally where the two of them live. Ally and I help Emile out of the car and into his house when we pull up to it, and luckily for him his parents don't seem to be home. Maybe he can hide his injury somehow.

"Text me if you need anything, alright?" Ally tells him.

"Alright," Emile responds with a grin. "Thanks."

She hugs him tightly and sends him inside.

"I can walk home from here," Ally informs me. As I walk back to the car, Ally stops me. "Hey, um…thank you. For…y'know."

I smile at her. "Anything for a friend."

She smiles in return and hugs me as well before making the walk back to her place.

_…no Social Link?_

_ (Guess not.)_

_ Maybe she's just a hugger._

I return to the van and realize how tired I am. Aunt Joanne and I are silent from then on for the rest of the day.


End file.
